


Honey, understand that I have been left here in the reeds...

by Dividedpoet



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 715 - CR∑∑KS, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bon Iver, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, It's cool I explain it briefly in the story, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Well just pretend they defeated Thanos and there was no dusting and no one died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dividedpoet/pseuds/Dividedpoet
Summary: Darcy can't help herself. "Dames, huh?"Bucky chuckles; that truly musical sound. "You do remember I'm a bit older than you, right, doll?" His entire arm brushes the length of Darcy's now and she can't decide if they've purposefully gotten closer or if she's completely unable to walk a straight line.The question thumping in her chest, Darcy nods. "Trust me, I remember." It's the surest she sounds to her own ears the entire evening.She wants to tell Bucky it's particularly apparent to her on evenings like this one when he's choosing his words with purpose. Those are the times she feels like every impulsive question that tumbles out of her mouth just highlights how truly young she is comparatively. But she keeps the thought tucked close to the vest."Does it make you nervous?" he asks.Dammit. She clearly needs to work on masking her body language from genetically enhanced supersoldiers.Finding both your hands as second sun came past the glass. And oh, I know it felt right and I had you in my grasp





	Honey, understand that I have been left here in the reeds...

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I little Darcy/Bucky porn that came into my head while I was reading other Darcy/Bucky porn and listening to Bon Iver on repeat. <3
> 
> Title/line in the summary from "715 - CR∑∑KS" by Bon Iver
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Darcy -**

It's warm. Not stiflingly so; not oppressive or humid. Just pleasant with a slight breeze. Minutes before it was sunny but dusk is starting to creep through the trees. The way the sun looks late in the evening when it's no longer bolstered by the day. 

Water from the lake laps at Darcy's toes and she thinks, _this is okay. Who cares what kind of microbes are in it._ She's sure Jane knows a scientist who could get rid of any flesh eating bacteria before it took her whole foot. Nothing to worry about.

The thought causes a chuckle to bubble out of her throat as Darcy thinks about her rant on microorganisms in lakes when Steve suggested she get out of the compound that morning. It only fortifies his resolve as he tells her that is exactly why she needs some real fresh air. She's in her head too much. Which is funny coming from a man who, at times, can make Marcus Aurelius seem downright superficial.

Still, she can understand where he's coming from. 

Since they came back from Wakanda things have been tense in a way well beyond the normal level. They'd stopped the big baddie from finishing out his jewelry collection and done something with a portal that got him all stuck and away. But it's almost as if they feel like there should have been more. Something that was supposed to happen but didn't, leaving them all resoundingly unfinished.

Darcy doesn't have a chance to react to the noise behind her before someone is settling on the ground to her left side. 

"Here I was thinking I'd have to pull what was left of your rotting flesh out of the water," Bucky says, lips tilting at the corners belying the gravity of his tone.

He always sounds so damn calm. Which is a complete juxtaposition to the crackle of energy that seems to take her over whenever he's around. It's like someone attaches her to a battery and electrically charges her skin.

Shaking her head to try and maintain the level of relaxation her time outside has created, Darcy shrugs. "Hey man, the night is still young. Plenty of time for some kind of fungus to take me out. You should keep your distance, I'm probably already contaminated," she quips, doing her damndest to match his tranquility.

"I'll take my chances," he grunts, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Besides, got a mess of scientists in there that could patch us up, right as rain."

Darcy clears her throat. "We'd have to make it back to the compound first, yo. I don't know if you remember how I am in life or death situations, but it's not cute. I whine and cower. There's usually some flailing. You'd end up leaving me; save yourself." Darcy's voice rises on the last words as she reaches forward toward nothing as if to demonstrate the potential plight they face.

Bucky barks out a laugh and Darcy is reminded of what that specific sound does to her chest.

She hasn't heard him laugh often. In all honesty, they haven't interacted much since Wakanda. She's pretty sure they spent more time around each other when she and Jane went to help Shuri recalibrate their communication systems. Something about intergalactic contact that goes well over Darcy's head and didn't exactly have Bucky in a particularly jovial mood.

Even still, it's been implied more than once that the time Bucky spent there is exactly what gives him the ability to see the humor in things again. Which is gnarly. Because he spent twenty-five percent of his time in Wakanda fighting, ten percent working on the details of what he needed to do to fight, and the other sixty-five on ice.

Shaking the thoughts away, Darcy shifts around in the sand covering the little man-made beach. "Why are you here, anyway?" The question pops out before Darcy can think better of it. Immediately her attempt to keep a serene demeanor flees. "Not that I mind your company I just mean, it has to be a mile hike from the edge of the compound so it's not like you stumbled on this place. Shit, I guess you could have come here looking for some peace and quiet. I don't own the lake and you didn't necessarily know I - er, uh - it was occupied. I _am_ currently responsible for the entirety of its noise pollution, though. So that can't be very soothing. And, my god, you don't even have to tell me why you're out here. You're a human being with the right to do whatever you want and I'll just be walking into the lake so I can get a jump on that dying now." Darcy finishes her ramble by dropping her face in her hands and letting out a groan.

This time Bucky's laughter seems to resonate through the space. "Let me try and hit as much of that as I can," he says. "Definitely didn't come for the peace and quiet. You're right about the mile. Actually why I'm here; it'll be dark soon and I didn't like the idea of watching for you like an abandoned puppy until you managed to find your way back." Pausing, Bucky nudges her in the side with his right elbow. "But don't worry about the talking, it's the best part of my day," he finishes. 

Darcy slowly lowers her hands, looking over at him. Bucky's eyes don't leave the water but as soon as her gaze lands on him he shrugs. 

"Dude," she begins cautiously. "Are you ser--" The question dies on her lips as Bucky nods. 

"Steve pointed out that you probably didn't know that." Bucky shrugs again. "Guess I don't have the most obvious reactions these days."

Darcy opens and closes her mouth like a fish. She's clearly learned a lot from her time at the water.

Bucky takes a deep breath and it legitimately shudders as it comes out of him. "You're under my skin, doll," he says quietly.

"Oh shit."

Another chuckle, more self-deprecating this time. "Yeah." Bucky flexes the fingers of his left hand where it now rests on his knee.

Darcy can't take her eyes off him as the light reflecting from the lake turns yellow-orange with the sunset. "Are we talking about what I think we're talking about right now?" she says finally, desperately needing clarification. 

Slowly, Bucky turns his head to face her. "Depends," he says, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"On what?" Darcy says quietly.

Bucky smiles; more hopeful than wolfish. "That's a good question."

They continue staring at each other for almost a full minute before Darcy can't take the pressure anymore and stands, dusting dirt off of her backside as she goes. Bucky doesn't rise with her, just watches as she moves.

Darcy nods toward the path that leads back to the compound from the lake. "Still down to help me find my way back?" she asks, lips forming a placid smile as a staccato drumbeat vibrates in her chest.

It's difficult to decide if she's just being hopeful or if Bucky's eyes really do light up at her words. Either way, he stands easily and gestures toward the path himself. Darcy gives a definitive nod and the two begin the trek back to civilization. 

"You know," Darcy begins as they walk. "I probably would have only gotten mostly lost. I'm sure I would have found my way out by morning." 

Unable to help herself, Darcy watches joyfully out of the corner of her eye as Bucky ducks his head to smile. "Wouldn't have lasted that long," he comments.

Darcy isn't sure if he means he wouldn't have lasted that long or she wouldn't have. Either way, it pulls a chuckle from her. "You're probably right," she decides to prod afterward. "My stamina is selective."

"Meant me," Bucky answers immediately, like he was waiting for the opportunity. "But duly noted about the stamina."

Bingo.

Darcy blushes like she's never blushed in her life. Not that she's ever been anything close to a prude, but Bucky is the kind of hot that could make a girl faint. "Way to make it dirty, dude," she says in lieu of laying herself out right there on the ground. 

Bucky scratches the back of his head just above his ponytail. "Sorry, ma'am," he says dutifully. But his previous smile has slid into a downright mischievous smirk.

It's already starting to get dark on the path as they walk and Darcy takes a moment to appreciate the reality of Bucky's previous comment about her finding the way back. The path doesn't diverge; it's a defined trail with distinct markers. Even still, she can't help feeling as if she would have managed to go the wrong way.

They continue on in silence for about a quarter of a mile before Darcy decides she doesn't want to hold back her brimming curiosities. "Question," she says, moving imperceptibly closer to Bucky's side. 

It must not be as imperceptibly as she thinks because Bucky matches her lateral movement, "Answer," he grunts, bumping against her for the briefest of moments before reestablishing his path in a way that has their arms brushing repeatedly.

"How long?" Darcy asks without further preamble.

Bucky doesn't answer her immediately in favor of staring off into the burgeoning darkness.

Just when Darcy thinks he isn't going to answer at all, or perhaps that she needs to clarify, he takes in a breath. "Definitely Wakanda," he says confidently.

Darcy, not being as smooth as her walking companion, turns her head to stare at Bucky. "Why?" The question bursts out without her permission and she regrets the bafflement in her tone.

"Can't say I analyzed it," he says right away, not putting her through the torture of waiting this time. As Darcy's cheeks work their way up to a full flame, Bucky puts her out of her misery. "But I'm thinking it has something to do with how formidable you are."

"Formidable, huh?" Darcy does her best to sound nonchalant. But any modicum she manages to achieve takes every ounce of her self-control.

Bucky nods, giving no other answer but letting his right wrist brush against hers again. 

A shiver rocks through Darcy, uncontrollable as if a cold breeze rushed down the path. "Careful. Ego stroking gets to my head," she says, trying to ignore how breathless she sounds. 

Bucky has the decency not to comment on it.

They walk for a bit longer before the quiet starts to creep up on Darcy like a vice and she clears her throat. "What does a super soldier do on his night off?" she asks, kicking herself for her inability to function in companionable silence.

By this point she's having trouble making out the details of his expression. What could have clearly been a smile in the light of day reads like a grimace in the moonlight taking over. 

"Still not entirely sure I've worked that one out yet," he says.

It makes sense. They've only been back in the states for a couple weeks. With debriefing and medical evaluations taking up the majority of his days, Darcy imagines that Bucky hasn't exactly had oodles of time to kick back.

"What kind of stuff did you do before?"

"Before?"

Darcy bites her lip, concerned about the route this line of question could take but curiosity getting the better of her. "Yeah, um, before-before," she clarifies in her very vague way.

Bucky doesn't seem confused. "Oh."

"Er, yeah…" she trails off.

Cicadas along with some other indistinguishable bugs begin to form a cacophony of sounds around them and Darcy is filled with the desperate urge to erase her question from existence. Take it back and pretend like she wasn't asking him to remember a time when he was relatively carefree, wars not withstanding.

As she's about to take in air to speak, Bucky clears his throat. "I liked to go dancing," he says, the end turning up like a question. And while his tone is quiet in an introspective way, it's also oddly firm. 

"Dancing?"

Bucky's nod is clear in the soft light that filters through the overhanging trees as Darcy looks over at him again. "Back before the war, before Steve and I really knew what the world was like, we'd go out and find a couple dames to take dancing. Or, I would find us a couple, anyway," he adds the last part quickly, tone edging on wistful. 

Darcy can't help herself. "Dames, huh?"

Bucky chuckles; that truly musical sound. "You do remember I'm a bit older than you, right, doll?" His entire arm brushes the length of Darcy's now and she can't decide if they've purposefully gotten closer or if she's completely unable to walk a straight line.

The question thumping in her chest, Darcy nods. "Trust me, I remember." It's the surest she sounds to her own ears the entire evening. 

She wants to tell Bucky it's particularly apparent to her on evenings like this one when he's choosing his words with purpose. Those are the times she feels like every impulsive question that tumbles out of her mouth just highlights how truly young she is comparatively. But she keeps the thought tucked close to the vest.

"Does it make you nervous?" he asks.

Dammit. She clearly needs to work on masking her body language from genetically enhanced supersoldiers. 

"It doesn't not make me nervous." There you go, Darcy. Hide your anxiety in double negatives. That'll get him off your scent. 

"If it helps at all, you make me nervous too," Bucky says softly, almost as if he doesn't mean for her to hear. But there's no way she wouldn't.

"It does actually. It creates a sort of cushion of relief," she says, a laugh slipping into her voice as she speaks.

**Bucky -**

Back before the war, when Bucky was cracking jokes and saving Steve's hide from groups of men three times Steve's size, he approached life with ease. 

If he wanted to do something, he did it. If he wanted to be something, he became it. If he wanted to have someone, he got them.

It's different now. 

Now he worries about the chances he takes. He worries in a way that he thinks is made worse by the person he used to be. Because that person just highlights how much he was able to accomplish before the enhancements. Before he could actually take what he wanted. His choices now are clouded by the fear that he's putting his needs ahead of those around him. Blindly running headlong into decisions that could ripple out of control; building on themselves until no matter how much he wanted to he couldn't take them back.

That's what makes him nervous. 

Not desire, but the possibility that his could eclipse someone else's. Like following a woman into the woods in the hours immediately preceding nightfall so she was forced to walk back with him. 

He never would have thought of it like that when he was the blithe Bucky. His intention was truly to make sure she was safe, without ulterior motives other than the pleasure of her company. But as they walk he feels her building anxiety and is reminded she didn't invite him there. Didn't ask him to act as her protector. He made that choice for her.

And then she takes his hand. 

It isn't like the brush of their arms as they navigate the uneven floor of the woods in limited luminescence. It's a discernibly purposeful act. It doesn't negate the thoughts. They're still under the surface, ready to boil up and over following any other impulsive action. But it quiets them to a dull roar and lets other thoughts seep in. Ones that remind him it's okay to indicate your feelings if you leave room for the reaction.

"Is this okay?" she asks, the tremor of her voice combined with the feeling of her skin setting his nerve endings on fire.

"Yes." _Dear god, yes._

Because he misses human touch. The hugs he used to share so easily, the pats on the back, even handshakes have all turned sour.

But Darcy's touch is firm. Something done because she wants to. It spreads through him like a welcome warmth in the evening chill.

They reach the compound like that, hands clasped and more air in Bucky's lungs than he's felt fill them in years. Walking up to the building, he dreads the loss. Soon her hand will leave his and doubt will start to creep back; was she just being nice, would it ever happen again, how would he handle the next years of isolation.

Except when they stop outside the elevators leading up to the living quarters, she doesn't drop his hand. She presses the call button and remains gripped against his side. And when the doors open she tugs him along with her.

As the doors slide shut, Darcy's gaze rises to him. "How'd you kids handle this back in the day?" she asks.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows at her, entirely unsure of what she's talking about.

Darcy's smile becomes terrifyingly calm as some form of realization blooms across her face. Then she's pressing a button in the elevator that will take them to the floor their makeshift apartments are on.

A weight starts to unfurl in Bucky's gut as the elevator rises. It's akin to the anxiety he felt before while also being entirely new. Or at least an indefinable feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. Each floor marks a climb in intensity until his skin is vibrating as they reach their destination.

The contraption dings and the doors open with a whoosh of air. Bucky still hasn't managed to identify his emotions, but he has started to feel as if they'll rattle him apart. 

Darcy moves to step out of the elevator and Bucky follows without resistance. His mind is running again as he scans the hallway. Her door is on the left, closer to the elevator. His is on the right, but further down the hall. The end is marked by a glass wall with the moon visible in an upper corner. Eyes fixed on the moon and hand held tightly in Darcy's, they come to a stop.

Another tug on Bucky's hand signifies the need to refocus. Pulling his gaze from the glass, Bucky looks down at the woman sharing his space. Darcy has her bottom lip between her teeth, seeming to gnaw on the skin. She's watching Bucky, obviously trying to puzzle out some equation. 

Finally she mutters _"Fuck it,"_ and comes up on her toes.

The moment Darcy kisses Bucky, he is able to pinpoint the feelings that have been plaguing him since they began their ascent. The ones he hadn't felt in so long.

Excitement. Anticipation. Craving.

"Spend the night with me, soldier," Darcy says against his lips, not lessening the pressure as she speaks.

A noise between a sigh and a growl echoes around them and for a brief moment Bucky registers that it came from him. Then his hand releases Darcy's and both come up to snake across her rib cage. Digits grasped along the grooves, Bucky presses Darcy back against her door and licks into her mouth as if that's his new method for taking in oxygen.

In a way, it is.

Mindful of the strength of his left hand, his thumbs stroke against her sternum. 

Darcy groans. "Holy shit," she says into the kiss. Bucky responds but pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth before sealing his mouth back to hers.

The door behind Darcy gives way and Bucky realizes she must have reached down to run her thumb across the locking mechanism. Darcy backs into the space, still attached to him by mouth as well as a grip on his shirt. 

Bucky doesn't fully realize that his hands have moved until they're under Darcy's ass and he's hoisting her up. The door slams as legs secure around his waist. Left hand fixed under her rear to keep her balanced, Bucky lifts his right to twist in Darcy's hair before his fingers slide up to the base of her skull.

Fingers dip in the collar of his shirt, nails scratching lightly over the back of his shoulders, and Bucky's eyes flutter closed. The sounds of their movement reverberating in the front hall is the only thing that alerts Bucky to what they're about to smack against. Bucky untangles his hand from Darcy's hair just in time to put out a bracing palm. And then he's crowding her against the wall in the entryway. 

Bucky pulls his mouth away from hers to drag kisses along her cheek, jaw, and down her neck. A thunk signals Darcy dropped her head back and Bucky thoughtlessly readjusts his hand on the wall so it creates a cushion should she decided to do that again. 

Darcy's petite stature means Bucky, even with her thighs clutched above his hip bones, has to duck his head to run his teeth over her collarbone. Darcy shudders and Bucky follows immediately with his tongue to soothe the skin. 

The layout of their apartments can't be that different, because Bucky has the same narrow entryway in his.

Kissing back up Darcy's neck, Bucky says, "Bedroom?" Then brings his mouth back to hers. 

Darcy nods against the movement. "Left," is all she says and Bucky lifts her away from the wall.

They've just entered the living room, bedroom door shining like a beacon on the other side, when Darcy pulls her mouth from Bucky's and drops her forehead against his left shoulder. 

"Wait wait wait," she says, shaking her head back and forth but not lifting it from his prosthetic. 

Bucky stops moving, breath coming in harsh rasps. Darcy unwinds her legs from Bucky's waist and he lets her down immediately.

"Sorry sorry sorry," he breathes, unwittingly echoing Darcy's use of quantity to get the point across as he fixes his gaze to a spot on one of her living room walls. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A hand on his cheeks prompts Bucky look down.

Darcy is shaking her head, smile threatening to split her face open. "No, dude. Don't you dare apologize," she says, tone leaving no room for argument. "I just…" she trails off but there are fingers at the bottom of his t-shirt and he's lifting his arms so she can pull it off. Once shirtless, Darcy rakes her eyes over his torso. "I wanted." 

She lets the words stand on their own, hands following her eyes in making trails across his abdomen and chest. Her touch pauses at the seams of his prosthetic and Bucky fights the urge to pull away from her. Because she seems to marvel at the alteration and he doesn't typically think of it as worthy of any amount of worship. But as Darcy runs her hand down the length, Bucky closes his eyes again. 

He doesn't feel the contact like he'd feel it on his other arm; the manufactured nerve endings aren't particularly sensitive. However, Darcy has raised her right hand to follow the trails against his flesh arm. Every movement is synced together and Bucky shivers at the concept of being touched once more.

Darcy begins to stroke up his arms, up up up, until she's reached his neck and is pulling Bucky toward her body again. Bucky opens his eyes just before they meet and then they're flying closed and Darcy is shifting them to walk him backward toward the open bedroom door.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, in a way he can't seem to ignore, his busy brain is filing away facts. The square feet of her living space, the location of the nearest exits, how many seconds it would take him to make it to the kitchen drawers and even more so how much time he'd have to retrieve the gun he keeps stashed in the hallway.

But then his legs reach the foot of the bed and Darcy is pushing him backwards with a swift pressure on his chest. When she doesn't follow him, Bucky allows his eyes to open. There from his place with his back, he has the perfect vantage point to watch her drop her shirt to the ground.

Suddenly his overactive thoughts quiet again and he rises to sit at the end of the bed. His arm reaches out for her in a way that mimics how she'd reached into empty space when they were still sitting at the edge of the lake. Darcy doesn't hesitate as she walks between his open legs and his arms encircle her body. This time, when their mouths meet, they both seem to lose their breath. 

Darcy takes the initiative to unbutton her own shorts, pushing them down enough that at some point they make their way to the ground without further assistance. Bucky's palms are against the backs of Darcy's thighs again and he's pulling her into his lap.

"God you're fucking beautiful," Bucky says, voice breaking the silence of the apartment in a way that's almost jarring.

Darcy smiles against his mouth. "Bet you said that to all the girls," she teases.

Bucky snorts out a chuckle, "Sometimes, but only when I meant it." And then he's flipping them and pinning Darcy to the bed.

The word pings in Bucky's head like the beginnings of a spiral that has him faltering: Pinning. _Pinning._ **Pinning.**

Darcy unknowingly stops the spiral in its tracks when she takes a handful of the hair tied at the back of his head and yanks. Warm lips fasten to his throat and the blessed mantra of _more, more, more_ his thoughts are replaced by is a welcome relief.

"Pants. Off," Darcy bites out, punctuating the statement by grinding into him and licking a strip up to his earlobe before taking it between her teeth. 

Bucky's eyes roll back of their own accord and it takes every ounce of the supersoldier to move away from Darcy and sit back on his heels. Looking down at her laid out underneath him, Bucky thinks, _yeah, okay, pants off._ But first, he tucks fingers into the waistband of her underwear in order to pull it down her legs as he climbs from the bed.

Once standing, Bucky pops the button on his jeans. Darcy rises up on her elbows to watch him as he pushes both his jeans and underwear down. Both of them completely undressed, Bucky lets his eyes drift to the space between Darcy's thigh. Her folds are covered by thick dark hair and Bucky is kneeling between her legs before any of his reactions have time to register.

A moan tumbles out of Darcy when Bucky uses two fingers of his right hand to open her up. He dives right in, circling his tongue around her clit with a practiced ease. _Like riding a bike,_ Bucky thinks idly. He circles a few more times before he gently sucks the bundle of nerves between his lips. Darcy arches her back off the bed, one hand deftly releasing the band and weaving itself in his newly freed hair. Bucky groans at the pressure of her grip, burying his face against her like he hasn't had anything as amazing in his mouth in years.

In reality, he probably hasn't.

Bucky alternates between circling his tongue and sucking on her clit, slipping the two fingers he'd used before inside of her. With his right hand occupied, Bucky lets his left drift along her body. Over the outside of her thigh, across her stomach, up to her breasts. Same as before, the nerves aren't particularly sensitive, but he can feel the bumps and dips. Brushing his metal thumb against Darcy's nippples, the way she arches is intoxicating.

Darcy clenches her thighs on either side of his head. "Ah, mother fucking christ," she says, rolling her hips against Bucky's ministration as he sucks on her again and continues to move his hands.

Bucky picks up a pattern with his mouth quickly; licking from where his fingers are moving gently inside of her, over her folds, circling her clit, and then sucking on it. Repeat. Over and over. Darcy starts to make indescribable sounds, body damn near convulsing, and Bucky knows she's getting close. He repeats his pattern a few more times before he sucks on her and stays put. Everything about Darcy shakes.

Words spill from her mouth, "Don't stop don't stop don't stop, please, don't stop. Fuck. Bucky. Please." And she's tipping over, hand clenching in his hair and thighs shuddering.

Bucky licks her down, left hand splayed against her stomach now and right helping coax her through it. He takes a moment to look up at her face from his vantage point, fascinated by the blissful expression written across it.

Darcy uses her grip on his hair to encourage him up her body without even opening her eyes. Chuckling, Bucky detours to wipe his face on the top sheet of her bed, clearly still unmade from her previous nights sleep. He's in the process of persuading her mouth open with his own when she presses herself back into the pillow and ducks away from him.

There isn't time for him to react before she's settling back under him holding up a condom she'd unearthed from her bedside table.

"You should get in me," she says, reaching a hand down to grab his bare ass as punctuation to the statement. 

Bucky plucks the object from her, turning it over between his fingers. "Yeah?" he says, not sure what he's expecting from that question.

Darcy wraps her legs around his waist and rolls her hips against his body. "Dude," is all she has to say. Bucky lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment as her warmth comes dangerously close to him.

Leaning back on his heels again after Darcy drops her legs so Bucky can open the condom and put it on, Darcy sits up on the bed. 

"Actually," Darcy says while Bucky is rolling the rubber down his length. "Lemme on top," she finishes with a mischievous smirk. Bucky's eyebrows jump up toward his hairline, though he gets the distinct impression he shouldn't be surprised. 

Without comment, Bucky positions himself back against her headboard. "Come here," he says, tone a combination of wanton and affectionate, motioning her forward.

Darcy does, bracing her hands on his shoulders while she throws a leg over him. Reaching a hand down to position his cock at her entrance, Darcy guides the tip in before seating herself fully in his lap.

Bucky's eyes flutter again but don't close. "Christ, Darc," he says, gritting his teeth while she makes herself comfortable. 

Leaning forward to kiss her, Darcy meets him halfway. She's already shallowly rolling her hips, but the way she licks into Bucky's mouth seems much more intimate. The two start moving simultaneously, Bucky settling his hands on each hip to thrust up as she grinds down. She's tight and warm and absolutely _perfect_ , the last having nothing to do with the clutch of her vagina around his dick. 

Pulling out of the kiss, the two find a good rhythm. Darcy moves in his lap without concern, throwing her head back and rocking onto him. Hands sliding up her sides, Bucky categorizes every roll of her body and the beautiful bend in her neck. He doesn't remember sex feeling like this; so whole and visceral. He reasons that's because it never felt like this. 

Before long, Darcy starts to shudder. It's a loss of control that alerts Bucky to her coming orgasm and all he wants to do is take her apart. To lose herself to someone in that way, to process things so completely, it's something to wonder at. Instead of attempting to put that into words, Bucky uses his grip on her sides to drag her closer to him and stretches forward for another kiss. She obliges without hesitation, the bounce of their bodies making remaining in the liplock a challenge but not impossible.

Bucky senses the tug of his own orgasm like a surprise. A sensation he wasn't expecting, but one he'll gladly follow.

"So close," Darcy sighs out against his mouth. In that moment Bucky's goal is to hold on for dear life. Hold on for the chance to feel her coming apart around him. 

"Wanna see you." Bucky isn't sure how many times he says it. Swiftly creeping upon his release, it just starts spilling into the air without his permission. But when Darcy's orgasm hits her, Bucky is still blown away. No matter how many times he begged to watch it, the outcome is damn near unimaginable. "Darcy," is the last thing Bucky says before the spasms around his dick pull him over the edge as well and he's spilling into the condom.

Aftershocks rocking through both of them, Darcy leans back to throw her arms in the air above her head and exclaim, "Winner!"

Bucky barks out a laugh, very aware of how her movements with him still inside her jostle his overly sensitive post-orgasm cock but not enough to really care. Bucky loops an arm around Darcy and pulls her back against him, fingers of his other hand back in her hair as if he's intent on memorizing the feel of the strands. This time it's Darcy's turn to pluck at his lower lip with her teeth before engaging in a kiss that would be downright sinful if they weren't still connected at the groin.

When Darcy does climb off of him, Bucky can't suppress a groan at the loss of warmth and introduction of air to his softening dick. He allows himself to sit, staring unfocused into space and reveling in the ghost feeling of having her body pressed all along his. After a moment, what he thinks is a roll of toilet paper hits him in the face. Eyes flying to her, he watches Darcy laugh at him from the corner of the room.

With her still naked and leaned against the doorframe drinking a glass of water, Bucky's cock gives a halfhearted twitch. Ignoring it, Bucky carefully maneuvers himself off the bed so he can attend to the soiled condom. There's a bathroom attached to the bedroom and Bucky makes his way in there, using some of the toilet paper to work at the condom as he does. Once it's off, he balls it up in some paper and throws it in the trash. 

Bucky turns back to the door with the intention of returning to the bedroom, but Darcy has followed him into the bathroom. She's setting two fluffy light green towels on the edge of the sink.

Looking up from the towels to meet Bucky's gaze, the expression on Darcy's face is something close to coy. "You, uh, you wanna wash my back?" 

Bucky lets his face split into a smile, stepping into her space again. "Anytime, doll," he says before the two meet for another toe curling kiss.

And a few minutes later, when they're in the shower with Darcy's ass unconsciously grinding into his groin and her back pressed along his chest, Bucky will run soapy fingers up and down her sides and think to himself, " _Now that's what I call an A-team._ "

**Author's Note:**

> An: This is un-beta'd so concrit is always welcome. <3


End file.
